


Ab Ova Usque ad Mala

by Cheshirerising



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Canon-Typical Violence, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Game Personalities (New Dangan Ronpa V3), Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 16:35:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20312632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheshirerising/pseuds/Cheshirerising
Summary: "I don't even care if I die or survive, because it's all the same. In the end, isn't it?" His eyes meet hers, bright and somehow desperate. "I'll be dead either way. Won't I?"From sheer desperation to end his cursed existence, a young man makes a decision.From sheer desperation to glorify her empty one, a young woman makes the rest for him.





	Ab Ova Usque ad Mala

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that again?" Shirogane's eyes narrow as she leans over to scrutinise the boy - young man, she corrects herself, unless the ID he had given in had been a flawless fake - sitting before the panel.

  
He's nervous, like all of those that had sat in that same seat before him, gloved fingertips never leaving his sleeves. It's the middle of summer and yet the boy has yet to make any move to remove any of the dark and somewhat baggy school uniform, or even loosen the top button. She can see the sleeve of a grey hoodie dangling out of the large backpack at the side of his chair, as if it had been shoved into it in a hurry. If he had been wearing at least three layers outside in this heat, the boy doesn’t show any signs of being uncomfortable, like he’s used to it.

He’s pale, too, nearly paper white, a faint orange tint to his skin from the cheap light bulbs in the office. 

She wasn’t expecting a possible Danganronpa entrant to be exactly the most outgoing of people, but this one look like he has only seen the sun in internet articles. The dark circles below his eyes and the way he wilts under their stares adds to the very strong hikkineet impression. If it weren’t for the fact he was obviously a final year in the nearby Imperial Academy, she would be certain that this young man wouldn’t ever leave the house.

  
Shirogane finds his appearance the least strange thing about the boy, however, especially when he finally does repeat his initial statement in a small and quavering voice. Despite the lack of volume there's something about this possible contestant that makes her sit up a little straighter and take notice. To her left and right, she can see her colleagues do the same, Tanaka closest to her actually putting his phone down for the first time that day.

  
"I, uhm, I sa-said I want to enter Danganronpa because I don't want people to like me. O-or even want me around. But I guess if I didn’t want to be noticed altogether that’s harder because it's national television and streaming and online and, and of course people are gonna be watching and noticing me bu-" She cuts off the quiet rambling with a raised finger and another question, seeking clarification.

"You mean you'd prefer to be a villain-type character?" Her smile returns at the idea, eyes almost sparkling with endless possibilities. If that was indeed what he meant, then Shirogane had a lot of previous to work with. It was how she’d gotten her foot in the door, after all.

  
The villains had always been her favourites to work with from the start, a lot more fun to be had with character arcs and costumes and personalities. Making this short, anxious-looking boy into some kind of character that people detested and adored in equal measure should be a fun challenge, his looks giving him a lot of advantage in the adoration department from what little she can see of him behind that messy plum-dark hair. There’s no clues yet to what kind of Talent his character would have, but she has some inkling that something hilariously ironic wouldn’t go amiss.

  
An idol, possibly? The idea dances around her head for a second before being shot down with an imaginary bazooka. Too easy, and too close to what happened in the very first version, before Danganronpa became real. Definitely something that shines a spotlight on this boy, but not in such a cliché way. She idly wonders if she could wrangle a more criminal Talent around the heads of the higher ups, and even if serial killer is overused and boring, they’ve had at least one of _those_ in every season. Its boring and trite and if Shirogane has her way there won’t be another one in there.

  
(She’d heard through the grapevine that one of the interns had seen an auditionee that had inspired them to make another serial killer ‘but this time, even _worse_’ and sighed internally at the memory. Uninspired hacks, the lot of them, only there to try to make bank rather than create characters because you liked them. That kind of unimaginative tripe was why she was desperate to make her characters the ones to get in, if only to save herself the embarrassment of having to finalise yet another despairingly unoriginal concept.)

  
Maybe she can get something like a thief, or cat burglar? She could do a lot with that kind of theme, clothing-wise. Maybe something with a hat? A phantom thief style? 

  
Shirogane scrunches up her face in thought and returns to the present, once again studying the boy in the chair.

  
The villainous part would be the challenge, for sure. She's unsure exactly how she knows it, but Shirogane is quite certain that in a game of life and death that this boy would quite happily lay down and die, if it didn't cause anyone any trouble to do so.

  
That'll be the first thing she will get rid of, there’s no reason for the main villain to suddenly die quietly and for no reason. If she’s going to make this young man into a villain, he’s going to do everything that she writes for him, including how and when he will die.

  
His eyes are large and expressive, a beautiful lavender, and young like the rest of his face, when he peeks up at the people on the panel to correct her question once more. Every time he does this, Shirogane can see a light of fear flicker in his eyes, like he fears what reaction will happen from telling anyone that they’re wrong. She spots his teeth unclench from gnawing at his lip, the torn skin finally adding some colour to his face. It must have been the sight of the sudden blood pearling at the wound, because Shirogane feels a slight throb at her own.

  
"No. I don't...I don't really care what kind of character I become. I just don't want people to like me. I don't even care if, if I die or survive, because it's a-all the same. In the end, isn't it?" His eyes meet hers, bright and somehow desperate. "I'll be dead either way. Won't I?"

  
It's an odd statement. Everything about this young man is odd, intriguing. The boy carries an air of something, a presence that makes one want to pay attention to him, but only when he wants to he noticed, it seems. Shirogane's colleagues are more interested in this one than they have been all day, hours upon hours of sitting in front of desperate fans and bloodthirsty weirdos. She remembers the one that came in before this boy, a mega fan with a passion to rival her own and completely and utterly disgusting in his willingness to be executed. 

  
The vote to pick that one had taken less than thirty seconds. She is almost certain this decision will take even less. One of the other staff members changes tactics, asking the auditionee about his schooling and other plain boring subjects, and Shirogane keeps a careful eye on how he answers. She rolls her pen across the table, trying to recall if there has been anyone else like this yet and fails to do so. She has never quite seen anyone this apathetic, uncaring about their portrayal in the game. He just seems to be desperate to get in, and nothing else.

  
Even those who go in expecting to be murdered or executed give a shit about how it happens, want to have some say in how they meet their potential demise. Again she thinks on the previous entrant, who had come in with an entire portfolio of ideas, sketches and blueprints and short form writings of how the Ultimate Detective would be if chosen. She'd hated that there were some things in there that had impressed even her, and will take some pleasure in stealing the credit for if he gets picked for the final round.

  
She snorts. It's not like that _loser _will even remember having said ideas anyway.

Something about this boy's statements still doesn't add up, however. Something he said doesn't line up with what the public generally knows about the Team Danganronpa Talent Initiative.

  
She clears her throat, and all eyes fall on her. Shirogane takes a moment to appreciate the way everyone in the room instantly snaps to attention when she wants them to. The boy, however doesn't seem all that bothered, and she can tell if he weren't making himself noticeable that she would barely have remembered he was there at all.  
Another strange puzzle piece to decipher. 

  
"Forgive me again for interrupting, I know it's plain rude of me to do so, but something you said earlier intrigued me..." The woman pushes her glasses up her face with a single finger, before leaning her face in her hands to look him over again.

  
"What did you mean when you said you'd be dead either way? Surely that's not part of the process of being in Danganronpa, right? You've seen the show, there's been at least two survivors every season since the start! You can’t know that you would get all the way to the end, and I’m not going to play favourites just because you’re cute!"

  
A leading question to find out what he knows about the process, and the half sincere compliment to throw him off. It's not exactly a trade secret and completely obvious if one thinks about it; but it's definitely something that the average person doesn't consider when entering. If they do consider, they don’t tend to believe that it’ll happen to them, that they alone are interesting enough to take themselves as they are into Danganronpa.

He almost finches under her eager gaze, red in the face, something about the movement sending her own heart into a desperate staccato of beats. If it's in excitement or some empathic nervousness, she can't tell. She simply sits and waits for his answer.

It takes at least a minute for him to gather the courage to reply, no longer meeting anyone's eyes when he begins to speak again. Those large and surprisingly gentle eyes remain firmly on the boy’s gloves, the cheap wool grating against itself as he wrings his hands together.

  
"It's not...exactly something I know f-for sure. But it makes sense, doesn't it? You go in to Danganronpa as one thing and then you come out another person entirely, right? The old personality isn't there under the surface watching and waiting to come back, is it? They're dead. You literally kill off the original host's mind in order...to have a blank slate to im-mplant the next one. People either don't know, or they don't care, and you have enough legal pull to make people not know or care. If it's all legal, who can tell adults what to do with their lives? But it's like...suicide. And it's not even a bad thing! It's for a good purpose, right? A way to die without making anyone sad, or without making them die with m- I’m ri..uhm, sorry for getting loud, uh. Yeah.”

  
Even though he'd cut himself off mid mumble the sentence catches Shirogane's attention easily, and she files it away for more questioning later.

  
The boy continues to be riddles upon riddles under a thin mesh of boring nobody. The only time he’s become properly animated, alive, even, is when talking about how he’s desperate to _die_. Even if he doesn’t phrase it that way, the need is obvious in that voice.

  
For the first time the boy meets Shirogane's eyes without fiddling with his gloves, and it's as if she can feel his certainty radiating from him. The desperation too, as if confirmation of this theory, of some kind of suicide in which the body is still up and moving, is some kind of holy grail to the boy.

  
She swears she can see tears gather in those eyes the moment she nods. She swears for just a moment she can feel tears collect in the corners of her own. A surge of elation that comes from seemingly nowhere sweeps her body as the young man lets out a sigh, lips quirking upwards at the corners.

  
Despite the strange emotions, and because Shirogane simply cannot resist being dramatic she leans forwards, fingers steeped together akin to Gendo Ikari and smiles in a way befitting of the man.  
"Let's say that you are right. Let's assume, for a moment, that you've hit the nail on the head and joining Danganronpa is a sure-fire death sentence even if your character survives past the end. Why exactly is it, Ouma Kokichi, that you want to die?"

  
***

  
Several hours and many, many less interesting people pass. Shirogane is into her seventh – first and only, if anyone else asks – smuggled cigarette of the day, leaning out of the window to let the smoke out.

  
“Y’know, I still think I should apologise for giving you that habit, but I’ll consider it a fair trade for the bad habit you gave _me_.”

  
The voice behind her is rough and smooth at the same time, quiet yet commanding, and one that any other person would have a fanatic heart attack of glee upon hearing. Shirogane simply rolls her eyes and turns around slowly to blow smoke in the face of the public’s current darling prodigal son.

  
“Hey, I only gave you the in, you did all the boring work yourself. Plus, you got all the way to the end ‘on your own’, so it’s plain obvious that you gave me the worse habit, hm? At least compared to yours, my death will be slow and painful from the inevitable lung cancer.”

  
Regardless of her apparent disdain, she opens the packet and offers her companion one, leaning back on the her elbows on the wall as he pulls one out and pockets the rest, raising his eyebrows as she pulls a lighter from her own and throws it at him. Without looking, the man catches it and lights up, taking a deep breath of assorted chemicals.

  
“_Please_, Tsu. Nobody has died from cancer in sixty years unless it was on purpose.”

Half-lidded green eyes stare at her with a lazy sort of attention before the man joins her on her windowsill leaning.

“You’re just saying that because you’re still mad your hospital-themed season idea got stolen by Tsubaki.”

  
Shirogane snorts, incensed by the comment. If her companion wasn’t so pretty she’d have knocked the cigarette from his lips and stamped it out for reminding her of last season.  
If he wasn’t so pretty, she wouldn’t have gotten him in last season at all. That is all, she reminds herself. He was simply an aesthetic needed at the time, that’s all. The way that they’re on the same level in other ways is simply a bonus, but one she needs to keep to a professional minimum while they’re at work.

  
“And you are still mad that I’m not telling you what your new Talent is, right, Mister Ultimate Surgeon?”

He pouts in a way that’s almost enough to make her feel bad, lips twisting in an irritatingly kissable way before laughing through an exhale of his own smog.

  
“If I’m honest, I’m kind of mad that I’m going back in at all, but...”

He shrugs, the movement saying enough. The man pulls the cigarette away from his lips, tapping off the ash and letting it rest between his fingers. Leaf green and electric blue both watch the rest burn down before Shirogane speaks again.

  
“The old Taro knew what he was getting himself in for, you can’t blame him for you regretting it now. And besides!” She brightens outwardly without the grin meeting her eyes for a second, pretends that her hand hasn’t closed over his own larger and tanner one. “You’ll know at least two of the people you’ll be going in with, even if you don’t remember it in there!”

  
Amami’s eyebrows rise for a second before the green haired man remembers what she means. “You really mean it?” His face is drawn, lips tightening.

  
“Of course! He’s perfect, isn’t he?” Amami’s mouth twists to explain that isn’t who he meant, but she cuts him off with a finger to his lips, getting more into his personal space than necessary. Her cigarette drops to the ground, forgotten. “You’ve been watching him like I asked, right?”

  
Amami sighs, putting the elephant in the room aside for now. “I saw him. He’s nothing special, really.” At the signs of offense in his partner’s eyes, he clarifies. “Not unless you’re paying attention to him, anyway. He’s kind of hard to pay attention to –“

  
“Unless he wants you to, right? It’s so strange! Even when we were interviewing him, as soon as he wasn’t talking or my eyes weren’t on him, he just kind of-“

  
“Faded into the background?” Amami nods, face set in contemplation. “Yeah. There’s something weird about him, for sure.” He gives Shirogane a sideward glance. “But what makes you so certain that he’ll even want to commit to the whole process? It takes a special kind of person to come here, and I can’t tell if this kid will stick with it or simply jump off the nearest bridge before the first session before you even get into his head.”

  
Shirogane lets a smug – and highly attractive, she’d practiced – smirk cross her lips despite the veiled reminder, before getting closer into Amami’s personal space. Her hands close around his now empty ones, tugging him down slightly so they’re eye to eye.

“I saw his reaction to just the handshakes, and other contact. There may be something weird, maybe even unnatural about this Ouma kid, but he’s only human, and one’s who’s plainly starved for positive attention. _We_ don’t have to get into his head, dear Taro, we have to get into his _heart_.”

  
Amami shudders from sheer cliché language, freeing his wrists to slide around his companion’s body and letting his hands rest on her waist.

“That was the tackiest thing I’ve ever heard said, and a the fact that I’m not melting into a pure puddle of cringe shows I’ve known you way too long.” Shirogane leans into the embrace with a pleased hum, resting her head on the man’s shoulder.

  
“Oh, you love it. At least I didn’t say we’d have to get into his _pants_ this time."

  
“You’re thinking of that too, aren’t you.”

  
“Only if it needs to be done.”

  
Amami lets out a horrified grunt before hearing laughter from the young woman in his arms.

  
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding, babe! I wouldn’t and have never seduced any contestants without your permission, and vice versa. Besides, it may not even be me that he’d end up wanting to join with for his adorably tragic lover’s suicide!” Another offended grumble sends her into peals of laughter before pulling Amami down for a chaste kiss.

  
“We’ll get him. And he will be my masterpiece. I promise. I’m going to be the one to save this damn show, whatever it takes.”

**Author's Note:**

> The overall title comes from the Latin meaning 'from eggs to apples', a reference to how a general meal would be in ancient Rome, from the appetiser to the desert.
> 
> This version of Kokichi comes from a 'what if' from my other fic Cheat Code, which is on indefinete hiatus due to personal issues the subject matter in there has brought up.
> 
> The storyline will be more linear and will shift perspectives between Tsumugi and Kokichi, and sometimes other characters. Neither of them are particularly reliable narrators, and the tagged 'supernatural elements' will hopefully be more apparent as the chapters happen, but if you spot it from this one, I wouldn't be surprised, I'm not subtle.
> 
> I can't promise updates that regularly, but any comments you can give will be a huge encouragement to continuing!


End file.
